


strange things which maybe matter a lot.

by milominderbinder



Series: maia's shameless fic a day in the month of may [28]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Embarrassing Names, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2014-05-28
Packaged: 2018-01-27 15:59:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1716356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milominderbinder/pseuds/milominderbinder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian just wants to know Mickey's full name.  He employs a few interesting tactics to try and get Mickey to tell him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	strange things which maybe matter a lot.

Mickey’s sat on the Gallagher couch, reading a magazine and minding his own business, when Ian sits down next to him with a kind of _intent_ which can only mean trouble.

Sighing, Mickey sets down his magazine.  He’s learned to identify Ian’s ‘determined’ moods pretty well by now, and for the most part, he knows it’s better off for everyone to just go along with them.  Ian’s a stubborn motherfucker - he’s good at getting what he wants.  So when he sits down and stares at Mickey with his jaw set, Mickey knows better than to protest, and just stares back expectantly.

“I want to know your full name,” says Ian.

And _fuck._

Mickey hadn’t been prepared for that.

“Huh?” he says feebly, but Ian ignores him, already launching into the speech Mickey’s _sure_ he’s rehearsed in front of the mirror before now.

“I think it’s ridiculous that I don’t know it.  We know each other’s middle names and dick lengths and social security numbers, but I don’t know not your first name?  It’s bullshit.  We’re a proper couple now, Mick, we _have_ to know these kinds of things.  What if something happened to you and you were in the hospital and I had to fill out paperwork?  Or you got some important phone call but I didn’t understand who they were asking for so I told them they had the wrong number? Or -”

“Yeah fuckin’ yeah, we get it,” says Mickey.  “Still ain’t telling you, though.”

“Why _not?”_ Ian whines.

“Because it doesn’t fucking matter!”

“Clearly it does matter _,_ or you wouldn’t go to so much effort of hiding it!  You turn around every time you have to sign something in front of me, you only keep your fake ID in your wallet - and I _know_ your full name isn’t Kristoff Marlboro, so you can drop that before you even start.  I think it matters a _lot_ to you for some reason, and I’m your boyfriend - I’m supposed to be the one one you tell about the things that matter a lot!”

Mickey fidgets awkwardly for a moment, opens and shuts his mouth once before he figures out what to say, because Ian’s getting dangerously close to a good point, there.

“Just leave it alone,” he says, and picks his magazine back up.

Only, because Ian’s _Ian,_ he doesn’t leave it alone.  He keeps bugging Mickey about it, sitting next to him and staring at him grumpily as Mickey pretends to read, prodding his arm, trying to get his attention, occasionally flicking at the magazine.  It’s like having a dumb fuckin’ puppy complaining that it’s not getting enough attention; Ian doesn’t usually get as petty as this, so he clearly is _really_ stuck on this whole name thing.  Mickey gets more uncomfortable with every second that passes, though he tries not to let it show.

Eventually, he’s had enough.  He needs a smoke, something to calm himself down a little, because this is weird as shit.  He throws the magazine down onto the table and stands up, rolling his eyes at Ian and starting to head towards the kitchen, where he remembers spotting a pack of cigarettes on the counter earlier.  He expects Ian to follow him, and he isn’t disappointed.

What he _doesn’t_ expect, though, is that as soon as Ian stands up he pushes Mickey into the wall, then grabs both of Mickey’s hands and pins them above his head.  For a moment, they just stand there, and Mickey is suddenly _hyper fucking aware_ of every single thing.  He can feel Ian’s breath ghosting across his face.  Can hear his own heartbeat ringing loud in his ears.

Then Ian moves one of his hands down, to the hem of Mickey’s tshirt, keeping Mickey’s arms pinned to the wall up above his head.  Slowly - so fucking slowly Mickey can hear grass growing and paint drying in the distance - he starts sliding his fingers up Mickey’s chest, dragging his shirt up too.

“I have _other_ ways of making you tell me, y’know,” Ian says, voice low and purring in a way that goes straight to Mickey’s cock and has him shifting his hips uncomfortably.  All of a sudden Ian’s fingers abandon their gentleness and press _hard_ into Mickey’s chest, and Ian shifts closer, pressing his body up against Mickey’s.

Their dicks are a millimetre away from touching.  Mickey’s gaze darkens, and he strains against Ian’s touch.  Ian fucking Gallagher has some kind of magic thrall over him, he decides.  Ian can make him hard with a glance, can make him _beg_ with just a few well placed touches.  It fucking sucks, and Mickey wouldn’t change it for the world.

Ian leans in the last tiny bit to press their lips together, and Mickey lets out a groan before he can help himself.  He’s so distracted by the kiss, which is hard and bruising and has passion to spare and is driving him crazy within a matter of seconds, that he doesn’t even notice as Ian’s hands start to move again.

Until, that is, they’re suddenly being shoved into his armpits.

Mickey pulls away with a squeal as Ian starts tickling him.  He starts laughing, can’t help it, but his laughter is high pitched and wheezing as he tries to shove Ian off, squirms every way he can and kicks at Ian’s legs, protesting in between bouts of laughter

He’s gonna fucking _kill_ Mandy for blabbing that he’s the most ticklish guy in the universe.  Like he needs another fucking thing working against him.  It’s not long before he can’t take it anymore, his eyes moist and his throat sore and his entire fucking body buzzing in protest.

“Mykola!” he calls out, in between wheezes.  “Fuckin’ - _Mykola_!”

Ian’s fingers stop moving, but stay wedged in Mickey’s armpit.  He pulls away a little, and for a second just looks confused, before understanding suddenly dawns on his face.  

“ _Mykola Milkovich?”_ he says, a gleeful smile slowly spreading its way onto his face.  Mickey feels his cheeks heat up with a blush, but nods, taking advantage of Ian’s surprise to shove him away and straighten his shirt back out.  He waits for the inevitable teasing, just like he’d gotten from every other people who’d ever found out his name.  All the kids from elementary school, even some of the teachers, all his family on his dad’s side who resented his Ukranian mom.  He’s used to it, after a lifetime; adopting the nickname _Mickey_ protects him a little, but still, people eventually find out, and he can handle that.  Can handle a little teasing, especially from Ian, because he knows it won’t come from anywhere _cruel._

Except the taunts he’s expecting never come.  Instead, Ian just smiles wide, and pulls Mickey back in for another kiss - a proper one this time, one that doesn’t end in torture.  When he pulls away a moment, he’s still smiling, and Mickey is, too.

“See, was that so hard?” Ian asks.

**Author's Note:**

> for the fic a day in may challenge, based on [this imagineyourotp post](http://imagineyourotp.tumblr.com/post/72890199634/imagine-person-a-refusing-to-tell-person-b).
> 
> find me on tumblr: [mickeymilk](http://mickeymilk.tumblr.com)


End file.
